Bloodsport
by elitemassacre6
Summary: Seeing Quinn with her boyfriend, Biff, not only hurts Santana, but makes her realize that maybe it's finally time for her to tell Quinn how she feels about her.


She stood, silent and unmoving, watching. Watching Lucille Quinn Fabray behaving in a manner that showcased her rearwards momentum. _Everything_ was wrong. The dress, the shoes, the smile, the _man_.

Santana had trouble even recognizing Lucy at all in the future stepford wife that stood parading her facade before their friends. It felt like a flagrant slap to the face. Like a rejection of an unspoken proposal. But that had always been Santana's biggest flaw, that she didn't speak when she should.

The problem was not only that she hadn't spoken when she should have, but also when she could have. When it would have meant something real. When her honest and self sacrificing words would have made a cautious but honest smile light up Lucy's beautiful face. Now, however?

Now she feared they would only bring anger, distrust, and further estrangement. The last thing Santana wanted was to be even further away from her best friend, physically or otherwise.

As always her fear demanded she let things be. To let Quinn go again. But her fear had always controlled her. It demanded she stay firmly buried in the closet in high school, that she never tell Lucy and eventually Quinn how she felt about her. And obviously, she'd obeyed. She didn't want to. Not this time.

If she was going to start anywhere it would have to be with talking to the blonde alone. Just an hour or so to try and understand why she was doing this, what had driven her to it, and what Santana could do to help. It would be a change from the way she was used to approaching her when she didn't like the direction she was heading in.

She'd try to be calm and understanding instead of demanding and harsh the way that was a habit she'd had some trouble working her way out of. Sighing and simultaneously trying to breath out the attitude that somehow always forced it's way out of her whenever she was faced with a situation like this, Santana stood and slid her bag over her shoulder, calling out to the blonde who had just reached the door. She jogged across the room quickly to catch up with her, being sure to keep her hands to herself.

"Hey, Quinn. Wait. Can I talk to you for a second?" The blonde turned, already rolling her eyes at the Latina despite the benign request.

"Look, can we not do the obligatory argumentative slap heavy bullshit this time around? I'm really not in the mood. I'm sure you can find someone else to fight with." She went to turn around, her heels clicking against the ugly linoleum as she exited the choir room.

"Shit...look, I'm not trying to start anything, okay? I just want to talk to you and I wanted to see if you'd have time to do it while we're here. The things I need to say are better done so face to face." She dared not touch the stupidly attractive blonde in front of her, choosing to speed up to stand in front of her and halt her progress down the hallway instead. Quinn's brow raised above one of her currently moss green eyes.

"Why?" Two slim but still toned and muscular arms cross in front of Quinn's chest and Santana is so aware of how easy this isn't going to be. Obviously, she hadn't expected it to be, but if Lucy Q was already this defensive over her asking to have a conversation, she needed to very carefully think about everything she said before she spoke when the conversation came up.

"Why am I not trying to start anything?"

"No. Well yes. But why is it better said face to face?"

"Quinn, it just is. It's important to me, okay. Please?" She reached a hand out as if to run it over the blonde's arm but pulled it back and let it fall. Quinn watched it happen, looking at least happy that the Latina had the piece of mind to realize she really didn't want to be touched right now.

"Fine. I'll meet you at the Starbucks down the street from your house at eleven tomorrow." Santana nodded thankfully, finally shoving both her hands in her pocket after she set the strap of her bag on her shoulder.

"Okay, cool. So, um...how are things at the house with your mom? Everything okay?" The generally curious but otherwise neutral look on Quinn's features dissapeared at the question.

"I don't want to talk about it. I'll see you tomorrow. Don't be late, I don't have time for your games." The blonde sped past her, lips set into the firm frown that had always been on Russel Fabray's own thin set.

"I won't be. Goodnight, Q."

0

Around four hours later found Santana laid down in her bed, the old alarm clock on her bedside table flashing 01:47 at her in red digital letters. It'd been at least a few hours since she'd heard anything other than her own breathing, so it shocked her when her phone sounded out in the silence of her old room, The Bombay Bicycle Club's Bad Timing filling the space and alerting her to just who was calling before she even picked the phone up from on top of the pillow next to her head.

"Quinn...Hey. It's pretty late, especially for you...what's up?"

"I need you to come get me." Santana can recognize that throaty timbre that says the blonde has been and maybe still is crying just as well as she can recognize her mother's face. The worry floods through her instantly and she's off the bed, slipping a pair of old chucks on her feet and grabbing her keys and wallet off of the top of her alarm clock before she's flying out of her door and sprinting carelessly down the stairs and then out the front door.

"Tell me where you are, Lucy Q. I'm on my way." She locked her front door and made it into her car to start it up as soon possible.

"I'm standing at the east 'Welcome To Lima' sign. And don't call me that. You know I hate it." That was true, Quinn did hate it, but Lucy hadn't. The auburn haired girl with the big hazel eyes she'd met as a kid had loved it.

"I'm sorry, Quinn. I'm not trying to piss you off. I'll be there in like ten minutes, okay? Stay safe until I do. I mean I know it's no Lima heights adjacent over there, but just...You still carry that can of mace my mom gave you right?" She was definitely speeding. But it wasn't as if her foot would let her come off the gas and follow traffic rules. Every time she even considered it her her mind would conjure up an image of Quinn sitting at the side of the road in the dark, alone.

"I'll be fine. And yes I still carry it. How long until you get here?"

"Five minutes." Or less, really. Now that she was on the dead empty main road out of this quieter side of town, she was pushing ninety on the fifty mile an hour road. Of course, her trans am could do much better, and she could certainly handle it herself, but despite how quickly she wanted to get there, zipping around a relatively docile town like Lima going one seventy five plus didn't seem like a bright idea.

"You're speeding. Look, I can't deal with reckless driving, Santana."

"Yea, I'm speeding but it's because I'm worried about you. As soon as you're safe in the car with me we could drive all the back to my place going six miles an hour for all I care, alright. Besides, I won't be speeding for much longer. I'll be there in two minutes." Quinn huffed on her end, and Santana could just tell she was rolling her eyes.

"Fine. Just be careful." That was totally her line tonight, but she wasn't worried about it. Santana was more concerned about what the hell had lead to Quinn being at the side of the road like she was. There was a very short list of people who'd ever do something like this to the blonde, and it'd get plenty shorter once she found and murdered whoever had done so. She finally started to slow down to regulation speed when she realized she was closing in on the familiar tacky sign.

When she reached it she could see Quinn standing there, purse over her shoulder and a rolling Samsonite bag at her feet. It was pretty clear to see what had happened now. That asshat Biff had left her here. Santana would get her blonde friend set up at her place, go catch up with the idiot and fucking eviscerate him. She pulled over and hopped out, biting down on the urge to hug the frowning Quinn and instead grabbing her luggage to throw in her nearly nonexistent back seat.

"I'm glad you're okay. Get in." Quinn's scowl seemed to set in even deeper when she slid into the passenger seat. Once their seat belts were on she turned the car around and headed back towards home, her knuckles as pale as her skin could possibly be as a result of her tight grasp on both the steering wheel and her gear shift. They were both quiet as she made the way back into town at legal speeds, Santana silently working on keeping her rage under control until she could unleash it on the only person who deserved it right now.

"I'm not telling you where he lives, you aren't allowed to go after him." Was all that Quinn said, momentarily fracturing the Latina's control over her various warring emotions.

"What the fuck am I allowed to do Quinn?!" She hadn't meant to yell but still. The often standoffish blonde had been treating her like a...she didn't fucking know. Not like a friend, that's for god damned sure. Like an experiment, then a stranger, then an acquaintance. It was so stupid, too. That bag in her backseat meant that before things had went to shit with Biff she'd been leaving town. No coffee thing at Starbucks so Santana could finally tell her all she had been meaning to for so long, just another unexplained disappearance. Another shift in how she was treated...back to being strangers. At least after Santana stopped texting and calling and skyping and messaging like she had the last time Quinn had fallen off the earth.

"Drop me off at my Mother's." was all that fell from those pink lips, the blonde had yet to even look at her, her head was still leaned up against her window.

"You would seriously rather go back there right now than talk to me?" God, all of this just...hurt. So fucking much. When she finally dropped Quinn back at her mother's and could find time to herself, she knew the tears would come, but for now she kept them in, doing her best to protect her already flayed open heart.

"Yes."

"Right. Fine." It was anything but, however they'd reach Quinn's mother's place before the Lopez house anyway so it was...it was whatever. She decided to just let it go and took a quick glance at the flat screen monitor that replaced the area that used to hold the radio and more. It was already coming up on 02:30. Sleep sounded good. It would be better than the blatant dismissal Quinn Fabray's silence offered up. Damn near anything would be.

Fifteen minutes later found them pulling up at the Fabray mansion, the silence still reigning over the cabin of the car the way it had the whole way here. As soon as the car parked, Quinn was climbing out of the passenger side and tilting her seat forward to grab her bag, shutting the door behind her. Santana sighed and hopped out, hoping the catch the blonde as she reached into her purse to fish out her keys.

"Look, it's fine if you don't want to talk to me, Q. It's fucking fine if you want fuck all to do with me at all anymore. But if whatever made you leave here earlier makes you either want to or need to leave again, call me, I'll come get you. I'll rent you a room if you don't want to stay with me, alright. Goodnight." The blonde didn't say anything and she finally pulled her keys from her purse and walked away, but Santana knew she'd heard her and had been paying attention. If Quinn needed her, she'd be there.

0000000

She almost hadn't seen her sitting there in the pale coral patterned dress. She'd been on the way back home after picking up a few quarts of the strawberries her mother was craving that morning from the Krogers in the same shopping center when she'd glanced inside and saw the curly blonde hair and stiff posture.

"You're late." Is all Santana receives as greeting, and really it's more than she expected, so she'll swallow it with a spoon of sugar and appreciate the fact that Quinn is here at all.

"You said last night that you didn't want to talk to me, how was I supposed to even know you'd be here, Quinn? You look...really good. I like the dress." It's just coming up on being eleven thirty when the Latina sits down at the small table for two right in front window of the coffee shop, and Quinn has a small collection of textbooks and a laptop open on her side of it.

"I'm not going to sleep with you again." The blonde looks up at her for the first time when she says this, her brows lowered over her moss green eyes and lips back into that oh so thin line that Santana hates to see there.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"That's what this is was about right? You opened with a compliment, of course that's what this is about." The last sentence comes out mumbled more than clear, and Quinn's already shaking her head and sitting back in her seat, crossing her arms.

" No. I 'opened' with a compliment because you do look really good. Not because I'm trying to get in your panties, Quinn. I told you this was important to me, I'm not fucking around. Please. Can we just...talk?"

"You. Want to talk?" Santana just shrugs and nods, scooting her chair closer to the table in some attempt at making this easier. The sound of the chair leg scraping against the wood brought greens eyes down towards where she was using the momentum of her hips to slide herself forward, so she stopped, raising both hands palm out in a show of surrender.

"To you? Yes. So...can we?" Quinn closed her laptop and her books and slid them back into her bag, folding delicate hands in her lap.

"Fine. Talk."

"Right. So I just wanted to talk to you because it's been a long time since we have, and... I worry and shit, you know? Like I don't know how things are going with your mom. I mean, do you need a place to stay when you come into town, or are things better, or what?" The blonde just shook her head, her fingers massaging into the palm of her hand in on the edge of the table where she'd sat them.

"Things are not better at all. She's sober but now she's back into all of the same old social garbage. It's just like when I was a little girl, all over again. She wants me to find a man to marry, you know. She said I would be lucky to have husband like Biff who could look past all of my imperfections. Who could put Beth in the past where she belongs."

"She doesn't know what she's talking about, okay? Yeah, you have imperfections just like the rest of us, but they're what make you Lucy Q, right? If you didn't have them you'd be-"

"Francine?"

"No. I was thinking, a clone or something. It'd be freaky. I like your flaws where they are, Quinn." the blonde just hummed, drumming her nails against the cheap table for a second before she folded her hands back into her lap again.

"You know she's wrong about Beth, for sure. Nothing she's said to you is anything you should seriously consider, okay? You know that right?"

"So says you, Santana." The Latina shrugged, tilted her head to the side lazily, and nodded.

"Yeah, so says me. And I know you like thirty times better than she does, so who's the expert in this bitch? And...anyway, she's full of it in a million ways and she never deserved a daughter like you. You've been so so good to her, Quinn. Coming back to live with her when she was such a mess that you had to be the mother that she couldn't be, not to mention changing to be what she and your piece of shit father wanted you to be. But what you deserve, Q, is for someone to stop taking and start giving to you. You deserve someone to love you, and cherish you for the amazing woman you are. You deserve to be able to drop the weight you've been carrying on your shoulders since I met you. I just...I wanna help you, Quinn. I feel like I could be that for you. I could love you like you deserve."

Santana finished, heart beating quickly in her chest the way it always did when she was thinking of handing it over to someone who could break it like it was thin, fragile, china. Quinn hadn't even been looking at her at first, but now those eyes, purely hazel instead of the mossy green they'd been before, locked onto her own and an elegant brow raised over Quinn's right eye.

"You're clearly insane. Just because I let you fuck me once doesn't mean you get to think you love me, Santana." Santana clenched her hands into fists, dying to correct her on her terminology and what it meant to her in the first place.

"It wasn't...it wasn't fucking for me okay? And I wasn't using you to forget about Brittany, and I didn't want it to be some stupid one night stand we could laugh about later. I felt...I was so happy to just be close to you again, let alone touch you, kiss you, help you let go and feel safe with someone I thought you knew cared a whole hell of a lot about you. And then you said it was a one time thing for you so I gave you what you needed. Which obviously, Q, wasn't me telling you that I loved you. You needed for me to tell you that I wasn't in love with you, that it was a fling. And I don't think I love you, I know. Just like I knew I loved Lucy. Like I grew to love Quinn."

She felt a little sick to her stomach. She'd spent so much of her life keeping her emotions and feelings close to the chest that it felt wrong to just tell Quinn almost everything she felt about her. But as much as she thought the woman who used to be her best friend needed to hear it, she needed to say it. The eyes directly across from her were shining with wetness now, and as always, she hated being the cause of Quinn's pain.

"San...I don't...You're not in love with me, okay?" She said more than asked, a hint of desperation to her tone. Santana slid her hand across the table, her eyes flicking down to it then to Quinn's, who was wringing her hands. The blonde let go of her left hand, slowly extending her right for Santana to take.

"Except I am, Quinn." She gently squeezed the taller woman's hand, running her thumb over her delicate knuckles.

"I don't know what to say to you, or how to deal with this on top of dealing with my mother and her demands of me. It's all...It's a lot, Santana." The Latina nodded, watching as the blonde seemed to fold into herself, losing that stiff posture and all traces of the thin lined frown Russel Fabray was known for.

"Then let me take it off of your shoulders. I'll deal with your mother. Go ahead, do your homework. I'll be back in less than an hour." She went to stand, but Quinn's hold on her hand didn't loosen and she looked up at her, appearing frightened.

"You aren't going to hurt her, right?"

"No, of course not. But I do need to ask you if you still want anything to do with her before I leave. Because if you don't ever want to see her or deal with her bullshit ever again you don't have to. I'll deal with that and make sure you still have the money you need for school or whatever else. And don't worry about being alone. I'll never leave you like that. I'll even move to New Haven if you need me to. It isn't as if I'm doing a damn thing but working and fighting with Rae in New York." She finished, sitting back down, but in the chair to Quinn's right instead of across from her.

"I don't know. She's horrible, Santana, but she's my mother and I don't have anyone else. And what if she decides not to give me the money for school? I haven't had time to get a job." She said, biting her bottom lip and looking uncertain.

"Look at me, beautiful." She said, dropping all pretenses of being the same old hard ass Santana, and letting herself become the person she was. The Santana Lopez who was just so in love with Lucy Quinn Fabray. Quinn looked up at her, tears finally starting to fall from her gorgeous eyes. She raised her hands, cupping chiseled cheek bones in gentle hands.

"You have me. You will always have me. And you should know that your grandma Jean left you a trust. I remember hearing her talking about it when we were young, maybe thirteen. Until you just said you're basically living off of what she's giving you I'd assumed you already have access to it. I'll make sure she releases it to you, okay? I'll be back soon. Oh, shit, here, my house key. Go ahead and go there if you need or want to leave here. I'll call you when I leave so I know where you are, okay?" Santana said, stroking her thumbs over Quinn's cheeks while she nodded. She placed a kiss on her forehead before she stood and grabbed her purse, grim, determined look coming over her. She walked out of the coffee shop and hopped in her car, having to make sure she didn't plant her gas pedal to the floor board just to let the speed make her more hardened and steeled for the upcoming conversation.


End file.
